A/N - I've seen some of the comments on the fanfic, and you guys had some good points. Thanks for the feedback and rest assured, they will be useful in the future.
Also, sorry for the wait - had a lot going on
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I had no way of knowing it at the time, but as I sat down on my new throne, a surge was sent out across the world. The average person living their lives had no way of knowing, but those of a more fantastical nature could feel it; a sixth sense telling them that something has changed in the world.
Asshai - Shadow Lands - the continent of Essos (far east)
In the massive yet largely deserted city on both sides of the Ash River, was a beautiful woman with long hair the color of deep burnished copper, unsettling red eyes, pale, unblemished skin, and a slender, graceful, and taller body. This mysterious beauty has full breasts, a narrow waist, and a heart-shaped face. She is dressed in long red fabric; a blood red fabric underneath a silk gown the color of bright fire, and robes of scarlet satin and blood velvet on another. The priestess also wears a scarlet cloak and a red gold choker containing a ruby which fits tightly around her neck.
Around her are several men and women in similar red religious robes. As they walk along the banks of the river, the beautiful Asshai'i women was the first to notice: an invisible wave of energy emanating from the west. To this Red Priestess and Shadowbinder, this wave registered as the warm touch of her Lord of Light, a sixth sense that registered the power of light, fire and life.
Soon, the different Red Priests and Priestesses noticed it as well; these younger yet equally fanatic worshippers knew the same thing that Melisandre was about to say: "The Lord has found his champion."
House of Black and White - Braavos - the continent of Essos
Atop a rocky knoll made of dark grey stone is a massive windowless temple with one weirwood door and one ebony door with a moon face carved into them.
Inside the temple are rows of long stone benches and a rough stone floor, and hard stone beds are located in shuttered alcoves at the walls. In the center is a black pool of poisoned water ten feet across and lit by dim red candles. Tall statues of thirty gods stand around the room, looking down on a group of people wearing ragged pale robes.
After an invisible wave of energy was felt washing over their house, a meeting of these servants of death was called. In this meeting was an alchemist with a hooked nose and thick, black, curly hair, a tall man with a kindly old and a cowled robe with black on the right side and white on the left, a pale little girl with a gaunt bony face, hollow cheeks, and large dark eyes, and several other mysterious people in service to the Many-Faced God.
At the head of this meeting was a slender, handsome young man with shiny long, straight hair streaming down across his shoulders, colored white on one side and red on the other. He wears the same robes as his brethren, and everyone then turns to watch him. "The Many-Faced God has chosen his champion. A man has sensed it." All the others in the meeting nod in agreement. "The time has come to step out of the shadows."
Vaes Dothrak - Dothraki Sea - the continent of Essos
In the heart of the Dothraki sea and all Dothraki culture, there is a city built more like a massive war camp than a true city: carved stone pavilions, manses of woven grass, wooden towers, stepped pyramids faced with marble, and roofless log halls; all built on the backs of slaves. And in the center of this ancient city is a large, circular hall, built from wood, looking like a hut built for a king.
A group of of women, ranging from young women to grandmothers, all of whom are dressed in tattered rags you wouldn't expect from priestesses of an old religion, sat in a circle surrounded by small burning pyres. The eldest of them, a woman wrinkled by time, chants in the Dothraki tongue before she feels an invisible way of ancient force. At the same time, every horse in Vaes Dothrak begins whinnying and jumping in place. The Dosh Khaleen quickly jumps to her feat, hands on the sides of her head, screaming in Dothraki. "The Great Stallion has chosen his champion! Stallion Who Mounts the World has arrived!" Her words echo through the hut and all of Vaes Dothrak, immediately drawing an excited crowd.
The island of Pyke - Iron Islands - just off the continent of Westeros
On the island of Pyke, down the hill from the castle of the same name, Victarion Greyjoy, a godly man who worships the Drowned God, was seated on the rocky, sandy shore. As he offers his daily prayers to the Drowned God, he felt a sudden unexplainable wave pass over him and the whole island, and though it was invisible, this surge of energy seemed to wash over the waters of Ironman's Bay, stirring up the waves. Victarion quickly stands up and looks out at the sea. "The Drowned God has chosen someone."
At the same time, deep under the sea of the waters around Westeros and Essos, hundreds of krakens, giant sea monsters capable of dragging down a ship, all simultaneously stir and begin looking towards Valyria. A primal instinct stirs in them, something saying "This is an alpha-being we most follow…"
The Great Sept of Baelor - King's Landing - the Seven Kingdoms - the continent of Westeros
King's Landing: the capital of the Seven Kingdoms and the place where one of the greatest conquerors in history first landed on his new domain. It is home to the greatest place of worship on the continent: a grand marble structure with massive gardens and a statue of King Baelor the Blessed standing tall on a plinth. While once a true place of worship and guidance, now it is just a den of charlatans and the occasional zealot.
In a large, round chamber stand the seven holy statues of the Faith of the Seven: the Father, the Mother, the Warrior, the Smith, the Maiden, the Crone and the Stranger. A squat and ponderously fat man with grey hair, wearing long white robes and a large crown of spun gold and crystal, counts gold coins at an altar. This is the current High Septon, a corrupt, gluttonous, pompous and long-winded man. Or, as many call him, a "fat fraud". "Heeheehee," the greasy old man laughs to himself. He scoops his money into a tin box and practically dances out of the chamber. As soon as he closes the door, a faint glow emanates from the statue of the Father. Soon all seven statues being shining in a divine light of seven different colours…
Winterfell godswood - the North - the Seven Kingdoms - the continent of Westeros
The godswood of Winterfell is a dark, primal ancient forest that has remained untouched for ten thousand years, full of sentinels, oaks, ironwoods, ash, chestnuts, elms, hawthorn, and soldier pines. At its center is a small, dark pool with an ancient weirwood heart tree. This weirwood has bone-white bark, dark red leaves, and a long, melancholy face carved into its bark, with deep-cut red eyes, and the ground is covered by a thousand years of humus. The ancient heart tree stands silent, its carved face weeping red sap into the still pool below. For thousands of years, the Old Gods have watched the rise and fall of men, their whispers carried only to greenseers and children of the forest.
But now, for the first time in centuries, the weirwood moves. Its red leaves rustle though there is no wind. The carved face seems to shift, ever so slightly, as if waking from a long slumber. The pool at its roots ripples outward in perfect concentric circles. Deep beneath the earth, in the tangled network of roots and memory, something ancient stirs — something that has not stirred since the days before the First Men crossed the land bridge.
A presence. A spark. A new thread woven violently into the tapestry of fate. The Old Gods do not speak in words, but if they did, their message would be clear: A new power has risen. One who stands outside the old songs. One who may break the wheel of destiny itself.
And far to the north, beyond the Wall, a dozen pairs of blue eyes flicker open in the darkness of the Haunted Forest. The dead feel it too.
Heart of Winter - beyond the Lands of Always Winter - at the edge of the world
Past the ancient Wall of ice, past endless forests cloaked in snow, past the frozen shore and the great blue-white rivers of ice and the Land of Always Winter, permanently locked in winter and perpetually frozen where nothing grew or lived. Further north than the world really goes, to the curtain of light at the end of the world, and then beyond even that curtain. Only here will you find a frozen mountain range with circle of ice shards pointing up from the ground. Buried in this ice is an otherworldly glow; a pulsing connection to the Great Other.
A mysterious number of tall, gaunt and skeletal beings with flesh as pale as milk and cold blue eyes burning like ice stand aimlessly around the frozen wasteland. Their shining blue eyes all simultaneously turn southeast from sensing something strange: a for containing the same power as the one that gives them unholy life. It's not a brethren but more like a rival, clutching their thin crystal swords.
And standing among these frozen undead is their king, a icy tyrant with ragged black armor and a crown of icy spikes protruding from his head. Clutching a large crystal sword, which resembles a massive shard of jagged ice, this monsters turns its eyes like bright blue stars along with the rest of its kind. Sensing a strange, foreign and yet familiar power, it narrows its eyes - the only display of real emotion ever found from this being…
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294 AC
Valyria - Valyrian peninsula - the continent of Essos
As I walk over the window of my bedroom, I begin to think of the progress I've made; it has been about a year since my arrival, and I have made improvements and advancements.
My royal bedchamber is framed by towering black columns, supporting a ceiling carved in bas-relief with swirling dragons and ancient sigils. The floor is polished black marble, reflecting the room's furnishings and amplifying its depth and intensity. Dragon motifs are sculpted into the ceiling, etched into the columns, and echoed in the furniture.
At the heart of the room stands an elevated canopy bed, draped in deep crimson velvet and framed by black wood carved with serpentine dragons. Nearby, there is a low round table A small tree in a circular planter is in the center of the room
Tall double-door windows, framed by rich red curtains, open to reveal a panoramic view of the Valyrian city.
Since I first arrived in this world, I've found allies and subordinates in Essos. I've established a spy network that spans the Free Cities and the Seven Kingdoms and built up a strong army, but with more room for my forces to grow. But the biggest change? Dragons.
As I think to myself, a massive dragon with black scales like the dead of night swoops in front of my window. It pivots in the air to point towards the city and lets out a primordial scream. ROOOAAARRR. Its bellow rolled across the city, causing the air to tremble.
"Good morning, Balerion."
How did I get the Black Dread? To answer that, we have to turn back the clock.
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(FLASHBACK)
5 weeks after Aeganar Daegareon claimed his seat on the throne of Valyria
After summoning 100 people everyday for 35 days straight, I now have 3,500 men. Galadriel is still in command of them all, and she has 2,000 of them serving as a city guard to watch the city. The other 1,500 serve as servants in the castle.
Since I arrived in this world and wished for Valyria to be restored, the Smoking Sea is gone. With the peninsula reformed into a single landmass, there is now several rivers throughout the geography and several small islands around the coastline. Just a single Braavosi ship is gliding across waters towards the shore. It lands on a Valyrian city on the south coast of the peninsula and its crew disembarks. Several people wearing cowled robes, black on the right side and white on the left, and then dozens of others wearing different robes with no cowls, are black on the left side and white on the right.
This group silently marches through the unoccupied Valyrian city and up the dragon road leading straight to Valyria. They look like an ominous pilgrimage headed straight to the capital.
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I stood on a rampart of the southern city wall, Galadriel at my side, watching the group approach the newly restored Valyrian gates. My knights lined the walls in perfect formation, their Valyrian steel armor gleaming like molten silver.
Galadriel tilted her head and whispered. "My king… they carry death like a cloak."
I smirked. "Good. I've been expecting them."
When they approached close enough, I ordered the gate to be opened and they entered without a sound. A single man stepped forward; white hair on one side, red on the other, a face too handsome to trust and eyes that saw everything and judged nothing.
Jaqen H'ghar.
He walked between the rows of my knights, who parted for him. He moved like a shadow pretending to be a man. When he reached me on the battlement, he stopped, bowed his head, and spoke in that calm, melodic voice: "A man has crossed a dozen ports and a hundred whispers to reach you, my king."
I descended the steps slowly, letting the moment stretch. "And why is a man here?"
Jaqen knelt. Fully. Without hesitation. "The Many‑Faced God has chosen his champion. A man serves Him… by serving you."
Galadriel's hand drifted to her sword, watching him with a predator's focus. Jaqen didn't even glance her way.
I stepped closer. "Rise, Jaqen H'ghar." He rose smoothly, like smoke rising from a candle. "I want you to build me a network," I said. "Across the Free Cities, across Westeros. I want every whisper, every secret, every lie."
Jaqen smiled faintly. "A man already knows the first truth."
"And what's that?"
"That the world trembles, my king. And trembles for you."
I can't help but grin. "Then let's give it a reason. Bring me the skulls of the Targaryen dragons stored in the cellars of the Red Keep."
Jaqen bowed again — deeper this time.
"As you command."
And just like that, for the first time in history, the Faceless Men belonged to Valyria.